


Enough

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oh and barnacles and whales, Sherlock being caustic, Sherlock is besotted, john in an accident, super cute!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24531634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: Sherlock and John have a little domestic. John gets some air. John disappears. Sherlock is a wreck. John is hurt. Happy ending. Oh and barnacles and whales.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	Enough

“That’s enough,” John said with heartbreak in his voice. “That is quite enough, Sherlock. I understand what you're saying and I’ve had enough.” John pulls on his coat. “I’m gone.” He quick steps down the stairs, shutting the door gently. No anger then, in his leaving.

Sherlock stands in the center of the empty flat. His acidic truth hurting the one person he'd vowed not to hurt anymore.

“Fine,” he finally says. Turning back to his work, he resumes his deductions. John will be back, he always comes back.

The day amends its stay; the sun not lingering longer as evening approaches. Sherlock stands at the window watching the snow begin to fall. It will be a winter night, bitter cold and miserable.

As the evening wares on and still no sign of John, Sherlock begins to be concerned. He texts John asking him where he is. Repeatedly. He texts everyone: Mike, Molly, Greg even Harry, no one had seen him. He goes round to several close pubs that John frequents. Finally, he tries pinging the GPS on John’s mobile. Nothing.

The long night passes. Sherlock is a wreck. He just keeps watching the snowfall, feeling the warmth of the fireplace. At one o’clock in the morning, he is incredibly antsy. He starts calling local hospitals, nothing.

Sherlock’s text chime shatters the silence.

_[We found him. He’s being taken to St. Michael’s hospital. Looks like hit and run. Meet you there. Greg]_

Sherlock rushes to the hospital only to find himself barred from access, as he is not family. Sherlock tries to bluster his way into John’s room and finds himself invited to exit the hospital premises by a hoard of security personal.

_[Mycroft, need access to John at St. Michael’s. NOW. SH]_

Within fifteen minutes, Sherlock has access to John. Much to John's sister dismay when she arrives to find him permanently ensconced at John's side.

He had already discussed his condition with John’s attending doctor. Hypothermia, broken ankle with bruises and minor cuts, but quite a lucky man considering he was walking in a 'not very well traversed area'. He hadn’t regained consciousness, but the pain meds he had been given would most likely let him sleep for a while.

After staying for a brief time, Harry leaves to further her alcoholic pursuits. Leaving Sherlock to care for her brother.

Sherlock sits in a very comfortable chair that his brother has provided and holds John's hand amid the faint background noise of the medical monitors. He feels terribly responsible for the entire incident. He'd been correct in his assertions, but as usual, he was too forthcoming in invectives and not nearly as cognizant of John's feelings.

Shite, he'd almost lost John, not to a temper tantrum, but to some drunk idiot driving too fast in the snow. Sherlock had already deduced much of the evidence at the scene and his Homeless Network and Serpent's Tooth, his computer network were tracking down the hit and run driver. The culprit would be delivered to New Scotland Yard within the next day or so. Sherlock would see that he was convicted to the full extent of the law. No one left his John to perish in the snow. No one.

“Sherlock?” Midnight blue eyes, barely open, are peering at him. A tiny smile on thin lips give John’s face an immediate surge of renewed life. “What happened?”

“I was being an absolute arse hole; caustic and abrasive. You went to ‘get some air’ and I nearly lost you to another arse hole driving drunk.” Sherlock eyes glisten, unable to control deep emotions that are derailing him; several tears trail down his ivory cheeks. Bringing John’s hand to his lips. He kisses the palm, trying unsuccessfully, to hold his intense emotions inside.

“Don’t remember. It was cold. I was very cold. Can I have some water?”

John’s request causes Sherlock to pull himself together. He turns to the side table and places some water into the accompanying plastic cup. Standing, he helps John to take a few sips.

“When can I go home?” John looks expectantly into Sherlock’s eyes. “I want to go home.”

“And so we shall.” Sherlock holds John’s hand with his left hand, as he texts, one-handed, to his big brother.” 

(-_-)

And so it goes. Within the day John is released into the care of Sherlock Holmes. Against the advice of all the medical people involved. 

“He needs to be under constant observation, Mr. Holmes.” They demand.

“He will be with the most observant man in the world. Which would, no doubt, be more than your wife’s ability to keep you in the dark about her multiple sexcapades.”

With that parting shot, Sherlock and John are ushered out of the hospital posthaste. 

(-_-)

The ride to 221B is easy. Getting John up the stairs to the flat is another matter. Sherlock, worries about hurting John by trying to move him up the stairs one at a time. Decides to just go with it. Lifting John in a bridal carry he transports the smaller man up the ancient stair, into the sitting room, then further into his bedroom.

“Ah, the honeymoon suite.” John giggles as he sees that the normally sparse room now has some medical paraphernalia added into it.

“Well, this is just for now. Till your stronger and able to fly on you own.” Sherlock gently lowers John onto the surface of his huge bed festooned with large pillows to accommodate John’s needs.

“You know this is no one’s fault.” John makes himself comfortable on the bed. “I was tired and a tad distraught. That last case was horrific. I didn’t realize my mobile was dead.”

Sherlock makes sure the cast on John’s right foot is elevated on a pillow. John’s mobile is on the bed side table on the charge. 

“I’ll get us some tea.” Sherlock breathes deeply. It is so comforting to have John home again. Bringing the tea on a tray with biscuits; Sherlock sets everything on a TV tray next to the bed. 

Where did a TV tray come from, John wonders?

“I’ll need to rest for a day or two and I’ll be back at it.” John accepts his tea with raspberry short bread biscuits. His favorite.

“Doctors, idiots that they are, say you need at least a week to get ‘back on your feet’. You know the drill, John. You’re one of the best trauma surgeons around.”

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated to spend all that time taking care of me. I can be fairly self sufficient once I’ve acclimatized to the pain levels.”

“I knew something was wrong, John. You always text me back, even when we are having a great row. I knew that you were incapacitated and it was devastating. Not knowing what had happened. I thought I’d lost you.”

“You’re never going to lose me. I’m like the one of those barnacles on a whale. Nothing will dislodge me.” John is munching his biscuit and sipping his perfect tea. “And no, you are not putting a micro chip in me so you can find me via satellite aimed by your Big Brother.”

“I would never do that to you, John.”

“Not while I was conscious at least.” Smirks John.

“I would submit to being chipped too, so that you could find me whenever you want.” 

“That might be something I’d consider.” Looking contemplative, John finishes off his biscuit and reaches for another.

“Barnacles and whales have a different type of symbiotic relationship that is known as commensalism. Commensalism describes a situation where only one species benefits from the relationship without causing any significant harm to the other. That is not what we have, John.”

“And what do we have, Sherlock?”

“Something special. Something sublime. I can not live without you now John. You’ve become part of my DNA. The better part of the Work.”

“I think your over dramatizing things, as you often do. What we have is...I find it hard to find the words to convey.” John reaches for Sherlock. 

Setting his tea down, Sherlock budges up closer to John on the bed. Taking the offered hand in his. 

Sherlock’s amazing eyes sparkle in grey − blue and greens as they move closer and closer. Even as John eyes widen in wonder. Finally, Sherlock’s breath ghosts across John’s face as his lips make chaste contact. 

“Did I do that right?” Sherlock asks as he leans back. His fear of being reproached evident on his face.

Slightly stunned and extremely pleased, John gently pulls Sherlock back in for a more elegant and experienced kiss. 

“You could never do anything but right.” John’s broad smile engulfs Sherlock in its intrinsic joy. 

Leaning in for another kiss, Sherlock accidentally jostles John’s still painful body. Gasping in sudden pain, John braces his right leg.

“John! Oh shite, I’m so sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

Sliding himself further to the left of the bed; John pats the right side inviting Sherlock to join him. With the strength and agility of newly besotted, Sherlock quickly and gently takes his place. Encircling John in his extravagantly long arm, he draws them both back onto the plethora of pillows on the bed.

John rolls to his left side so that he can drape himself across Sherlock. His head nestling into Sherlock’s shoulder. 

“This is so comfortable.” Sighs John as Sherlock comes in for the cuddle.

“I suppose you’ve had enough for the day?” Lovingly Sherlock caresses John’s hair. 

“Know this Sherlock William Scott Holmes. When it comes to you and me, there will never be enough. Now come here and let me snog you senseless.”

“Good enough.” A smiling Sherlock surrenders to his better angel. His John.


End file.
